


Rotate and Reverse

by stillusesapencil



Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016)
Genre: Best Friends to Lovers, F/M, Fluff, Ice Skating, Ice Skating AU, Lack of Communication, Light Angst, Modern AU, Unresolved Sexual Tension, blink and you miss it spiritassassin, crap i need a title, if you'd just talk to each other but noooo, mentions of draven, mentions of mothma, technically it's ice dancing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-07
Updated: 2018-03-07
Packaged: 2019-03-28 02:24:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,235
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13894245
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stillusesapencil/pseuds/stillusesapencil
Summary: “What is next for us, Cassian?”Cassian chews on his lower lip. Yes, it’s something they need to talk about eventually, and eventually should probably come soon, but here, the locker room of the Olympic ice rink, is not the place.“It’s not the last of Andor and Erso, right?” he repeats. “We have time to figure it out.”(Or, Cassian and Jyn are ice dancers, and they have trouble saying what they mean.)





	Rotate and Reverse

**Author's Note:**

> So the Olympics inspired me, and I had too much to do this weekend, so naturally I decided to write a rebelcaptain ice skating au.
> 
> Also I accidentally deleted this right before posting it and had a brief heat attack, but then I recovered it. all is well now.
> 
> This is inspired by (but not really that similar to) aMassiveDisappointment's [pas de deux](http://archiveofourown.org/works/12887016)

Cassian sits on the bench, elbows on knees, hands clasped together, skates pressed firmly into the rubber floor. He goes through the routine in his mind. _1, 2, 3, turn, arabesque, turn again, skate, pull and lift and let her gracefully roll…_ He slides his gaze to Jyn next to him, her legs splayed wide apart. Her lavender skirt falls in a smooth arc from knee to knee. She is bouncing her right knee, balancing her skate on the toe pick. She, too, is going through the routine—her can tell from the pinch of her perfectly penciled eyebrows. 

She sucks in a short gasp, says, “Why are you staring at me?”

He looks away, to the rink where another pair is gliding across the ice. “Sorry.”

She pats his knee. “It’s fine. We’re going to be fine.”

“Right.” He doesn’t know why they’re nervous, either of them. They’ve done this routine before, many times. They have been in the _Olympics,_ for goodness’ sake, this should not concern them. It’s their final show in this tour. Still, perhaps it’s just the way they are. Team Andor and Erso, perfectionists.

Jyn grabs his hand. “Let’s go.”

He stands and they take the ice, skating to their start position. He wraps one hand around her waist and she just rests hers on top. They reach their other hands to the ceiling, fingers just brushing. 

“Are you with me?” he whispers.

“All the way,” she breathes back.

The music begins.

~

After their Olympics run, they weren’t sure where they were going. This tour was a last-minute grab. They’d done all there was to do, after all—doesn’t every athlete dream of the Olympics? 

“So what’s next for you two?” one nosy reporter asks. 

Jyn let out a small laugh. “Well, we haven’t decided yet, but this isn’t the last of Andor and Erso.”

Behind her, Cassian nods in confirmation, his features carefully schooled. It’s a good thing he’s a good actor, otherwise he’d be in stiches. He knew that voice—it’s her “I-don’t-want-to-talk-to-you-but-I’m-going-to-be-nice-because-it’s-my-job” voice. Otherwise known as her on-camera fuck you voice. 

Sure enough, the moment the reporter is gone and out of earshot, Jyn mutters under her breath, “Nosy bitch,” and Cassian lets out his laughter.

“Why’s it their business anyway?” she huffs. “Can’t they just let us enjoy our Olympics in peace?”

“It’s their job,” Cassian says softly.

Jyn sighs, plopping onto the nearest bench to unlace her skates. She yanks on the laces, and they let out high-pitched whines as they whiz through the hooks. “What is next for us, Cassian?”

Cassian chews on his lower lip. Yes, it’s something they need to talk about eventually, and eventually should probably come soon, but here, the locker room of the Olympic ice rink, is not the place. 

“It’s not the last of Andor and Erso, right?” he repeats. “We have time to figure it out.”

“Mm.” Finished unlacing her skates, Jyn pads to the girl’s side of the locker room. “Shakes and fries?” she calls back. 

“Shakes and fries,” he says. 

Because that’s what they’ve always done after a competition—shakes and fries, over which they discuss the program. But not their program, no, they judge the routines and costumes of all the other competitors. The couple that judges together stays together. 

Except they’re not a couple, and they never have been. They’ve been dodging those rumors and questions for years. After all, ice dancing is inherently romantic. They put on these roles—Sleeping Beauty and the Prince, Marius and Cosette, Romeo and Juliette—and tell a story through their dance. It’s romantic. Cassian gets it. 

It wouldn’t be such a problem if Cassian wasn’t head over skates in love with Jyn.

~

Post-tour show, Jyn lays facedown on Cassian’s hotel bed. Her hair falls in wet strands all over her shoulders and neck and across the bed cover. Her empty shake cup lies sideways on the bed, sticky slush still puddling at the bottom. 

“So tired,” she moans.

Cassian, cross-legged at the head of the bed, pats her arm. It’s the only part of her he can reach, currently.

“What time is our flight tomorrow?” she mumbles.

“Eight. We have to leave at six.”

“We can be there at seven and still be fine.”

“Six. Because I know you will be at least thirty minutes late, which will put us at six-thirty anyway.”

She groans again and pushes her face into the bed. “We’re going home. It’s not like we have to be anywhere on time.”

“Want a back massage?” he asks, instead of answering, because he doesn’t want to think about going home being the end of everything. They still haven’t talked about _it_ yet. Retirement? Coaching? More show tours? 

“Yes please.” She sits up, sweeping her hair over one shoulder. A bobby pin slides out. She picks it up, frowning. “I have _showered!”_ She throws the bobby pin across the room. 

Cassian laughs. All he has to do is brush his hair and put a little bit of gel in it. The ridiculous updoes she has to do with her hair floor him. Then again, most things she does floor him. 

He places his hands on her shoulders and starts to knead with his thumbs, running along the lines of muscles and circling over small knots. He is more than familiar with the shape of her shoulders, her back. He knows the precise placement of each of her vertebrae, has run his hand down the line of her spine many times. He knows that despite her small size, Jyn Erso is full of strength. He knows that even though his hands can cover her entire shoulder, she is one of the most in-shape women in the entire country. Probably. 

He works his thumbs up her neck, easing out more tension. 

They had done their routines well, tonight. The audience would not have noticed any mistakes. He knows, however, that Draven will have noticed their slight synchronization error on the twizzles, and he will probably have words for their glide lift. Their lunge lift spin, however, went off perfectly. It’s the one where she skates right at him then jumps at the last moment and he catches her, grasping a thigh in one hand, and her waist in the other, and he holds her at waist level while spinning. 

He tries not to think about his hands on her bare thighs. 

He tries not to think about his hands on her bare _anything_ , but that’s a little difficult to do at this moment, seeing as his hands are on her bare shoulders. She’s wearing a tank top and loose sweatpants. She looks more at home in those than in the glittery silky costumes Mothma puts her in. 

He stops massaging. “Better?”

She rolls her shoulders back and her neck cracks. “Better. Thanks.”

He glances at the green lights of the alarm clock. “You should get some sleep.”

“Okay.” She slides off the bed. “’Night, Cassian.”

“’Night. See you in the morning.”

“Right. Seven am, sharp.”

“Six.”

She keeps walking.

“Jyn?”

She flips him off. “Six,” she sighs.

The door clicks shut behind her.

Cassian grabs her empty shake cup and throws it away. He throws himself into the soft mattress, not even bothering to get under the covers. It smells like her. He falls right asleep. 

~

Cassian started skating when he was six years old. His mother keeps a picture of his first day on the kitchen wall. He is grinning brightly as he clings to the wall to keep his balance. It’s the first in a long string of framed photos of him skating. His first performance with Jyn is up there, too. She is eight, he is nine. She is dressed in an awful tacky sparkly orange outfit, and he is wearing a ruffled shirt of the same color. They both look serious and determined, despite being in the third grade. 

He guesses it’s that determination that’s gotten them this far.

As kids, they kept winning competitions and they practiced three times a week. In upper elementary school, they started practicing every day. They were in fifth, grade, for God’s sake, yet they both decided (not their mothers, not their coaches, them) to practice daily. He will forever to be grateful to his mother for driving him to the rink every day after school, for her making him a thermos of hot chocolate along with his water bottle, for driving him to shows and competitions all around the state. His mother was a saint. 

In high school, Jyn and Cassian both got to the rink at four in the morning to practice before school. She would come in, bed-headed and clutching a thermos of coffee, and she’d still be the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.

Because here’s the thing about love, especially this kind. There’s some people that are gorgeous when you first meet them, simply stunning. Then there are others who get more and more beautiful the better you get to know them, and well. That’s Jyn. 

Those early mornings he learned: Do not engage in conversation unless engaged. Sentences composed of words containing only one syllable, such as “where’s my blade cloth?” do not count. Such sentences are spoken only to obtain information. They should not be considered engagement. When the subject is ready for conversation, they will begin speaking to you.

Jyn was not a morning person. That much was obvious. But it usually only took her a few warm-ups to start feeling ready to talk. Cassian guessed he was lucky to have someone who was willing to meet at four in the morning at all. 

He lucky to have her trust him so well, so that when Draven suggests a new lift or spin or whatever insane move he’s come up with this time, she trust him. She trusts him not to drop her, not to hurt her. 

Once, when they were in high school, they attempted a lift where he does an arabesque and she hooks her knees over his lifted leg. He has to support her back with one hand and hold his other hand in the air, and she extends her hands to the side. 

He drops her, because of course he drops her.

Her head hits the ice first, followed by the rest of her body, and she just lays there, splayed on the cold hard ice. He crosses the small distance between them, dropping to his knees and sliding the remaining distance. 

“Jyn?” 

She grunts, eyes shut tight. 

“Jyn, are you alright?” 

She grunts again, sliding open one eye. “My head hurts,” she says. 

Cassian nods, not sure how to react. 

She lets herself smile. “I’m okay. 

He gets to his feet and helps her up, a bit slower. They skate to the edge of the rink, and Jyn boosts herself on the ledge.

Draven frowns at them. “Short break,” he says.

Cassian rolls his eyes. “Are you dizzy?”

“No.” Jyn takes a long drink from her water bottle.

“I’m sorry, Jyn.”

“It’s fine, really. I promise. I’m okay.” She gives him a small smile, the kind that makes her look unbelievably soft. He wants to run his finger down the line of her cheekbone, brush his thumb over her lower lip.

He swallows and leans on the ledge, looking away. “Still sorry.”

She runs her hand through his hair and rests it on his shoulder. 

It took him a week to stop feeling bad about dropping her. It certainly wasn’t the first time he’d dropped her, but it was the first time he’d thought she’d be seriously hurt. Bruises on knees and elbows and hips were one thing; a possible concussion was another. 

They got the lift, Draven was satisfied, all was well. 

He doubts Jyn even remembers, just a forgotten blip in the long list of times he’s dropped her or they’ve messed up. Inconsequential. It doesn’t matter now.

Does any of it matter now?

~

He knocks before opening the door to enter home. His mother knew he’d be home soon, but the flight had landed late and he needed to shower off the plane and sleep in his own bed in his own apartment. 

But now he was here. “Mama?”

“Cassian!” His mother springs up from her chair to wrap her arms around him. “I’m so glad you’re home. Tell me all about it. Let me get you some food.”

He starts to protest-- _no, Mama, Draven’s diet, I must stay in shape_ \--but then he realizes there’s no point to that right now.

So he sits at his kitchen table and eats his mother’s chilaquiles, and listens to her catch him up on all the family gossip. It’s just like he’s never left. 

“So tell me everything. How was traveling the world?”

He opens the photos app on his phone and hands it to her. “It was amazing and I loved every minute.”

“Ah, look how happy you are!” She turns the phone around to show a selfie he and Jyn took in front of a rink in Japan, he’s not sure which one. They were in Japan for a while. Apparently the Japanese like ice dancing. “How is Jyn? When can I see her?”

“I don’t know. I’ll have to ask.” Involuntarily, his eyes slide to her chair at the table. It had always been her chair, from the very first time she ate dinner with them. 

“Well. I’m sure she’ll be over soon.” His mother is eyeing him shrewdly. 

“I’m sure.” He smiles, and she returns it. 

It’s just that he doesn’t know where they’re going yet. Jyn probably has a plan (she always has a plan, she’s Jyn Erso) but she hasn’t yet shared it with him. He doesn’t know if that plan includes him or not. She’d mentioned finishing school, getting a degree, and they are past college age, but they could finish. Cassian’s not really sure what he’d major in. You can’t major in ice dancing. 

He’s not even sure when he’ll see her next. 

That question is answered a week later, when he is no longer able to keep away from the ice rink. He’d tried to take a break, but he discovered he loved ice skating too much to “take a break.”

He has a key (years of faithful training has its perks) and so goes before it’s officially open, before anyone else can put a scratch on the fresh zamboni ice. He starks by skating a lap.

He’s missed this.

It always feels a bit like flying, to him, how he can just push and glide for ever and ever. 

He skates faster, feels the chill air sting his lungs the tiniest bit. He starts twizzles and spins, and finally, jumps. He flies through the air, landing on just the wrong edge of his blade, and crashes, letting himself slide.

Maybe he was more out of practice than he thought. 

Jyn laughs. 

He sits up.

She’s at the railing, giving him a slow clap.

“Jyn!” he says in delight.

“You slacker,” she says.

“Slacker? I’m the one out here practicing.”

“I’ve been back here for three days. Been waiting on you!”

He extends his arm toward the empty rink. “All yours.”

She grins, and pulls a team USA fleece jacket over her head. He thinks it’s a bit ironic that they’re team USA, as neither one is originally from the USA. 

She climbs over the railing one leg at a time and glides to meet him center ice. 

“Twizzles?” he asks.

“Twizzles.”

It’s good to be back, good to slip into the familiar routine of warmups and practice.

“I’ve missed this,” he tells her when they take a water break.

“I’ve missed you,” she says. “Where you been?”

“Home. Had to see all the family.” 

“Ah. Of course.”

“What have _you_ been doing?” It’s a layered question: why haven’t you texted me to skate with you, why haven’t we talked about what we’re doing, why haven’t we even had lunch for a week? We used to see each other every day.

Jyn shrugs. “Saw my family. Reveled in the joy of being able to sleep past five in the morning.” 

“Because that’s important to a happy life.” 

It’s a joke, but she says, “Maybe it is, to me,” with a sad lilt to her voice. “What are we doing, Cassian?”

“What do you mean?”

“You have to have wondered what do we do now, right? You’ve thought about this?”

Cassian chooses his words carefully. “Yes. But I didn’t want to…bother you.”

“Bother me? What’s that supposed to mean? This is our future, Cassian.”

Cassian nods. “I suppose it would be nice to finish school,” he ventures.

Jyn stares at him. “So that’s it. We finish school, get a degree, get a real person job, and what? Coach baby figure skating?”

“I don’t know, Jyn, you tell me! Do you want to spend the rest of your life coaching children? Do you want to get a degree? It’s your life! I can’t tell you how to live it!”

“What about us, Cassian?”

“What about us?”

“Are we going to keep going weeks without seeing eachother, without so much as a text message?”

“I was waiting on you!”

“The phone works both ways.”

“I thought you might want time without me.”

“Without you? I’ve _never_ been without you. I don’t know _how_ to be without you.”

Cassian blinks at her. “Maybe we should…try being without each other. We should try to figure out what we want by ourselves.”

Jyn looks down at her skates. “Maybe we should,” she snaps, but there’s no venom to her voice, only hurt. 

“Oh,” he says quietly. “If that’s what you want, Jyn.”

She’s already unlacing her skates. “I’ll see you later, Cassian.”

He knows he’s dismissed. 

He spends the next few days in a fog, unsure of what’s happening. He allows himself the joy of sleeping in, of taking walks through down town, of starting the reading list he’s been keeping for ages. He registers for classes in the fall. He’ll finally get to finish his history degree. He adds a minor in English, just for fun. He actually has time to do homeowkr now. He has six hours of his life back, daily. 

He goes to the rink, telling himself he’s skating to stay in shape. He knows it’s because his life would not be complete without skating. But without Jyn, it’s lost some of it’s shine. 

After a week of not seeing Jyn, he goes to the gym owned by Chirrut and Baze. He and Jyn went there to practice lifts and routines without the danger of slipping on the ice. 

Baze is at the front check-in desk, wearing glasses as he reads the computer, presumably either scheduling the dance floors or balancing the check book. He looks over his glasses when Cassian walks in. 

“Cassian!” he booms, standing and opening his arms. He envelops Cassian in a bear hug, squeezing so tightly Cassian coughs when he lets go. “Congratulations on the Olympics! Chirrut and I watched every show.” 

“Thank you, Baze. I enjoyed it.”

“How is it to have a break?”

Cassian takes a breath. There are a lot of words he could choose her. “Weird,” he settles on. 

“Ah, well, at least you have time to catch your breath. We’ve missed you around here.”

As if on cue, Chirrut comes from the back of the gym. “Is that Cassian I hear? It’s good to see you, my friend!”

He gives Cassian a hug as well. 

The three sit and talk for some time, Cassian telling them all the stories from the Olympics. 

“So what’s next for you and Jyn?” Baze asks.

“We…don’t know yet. We’re trying to figure that out.”

“Are you finally going to do something about your feelings for her?” Chirrut asks. He never does beat around the bush. 

Cassian laughs, a few grating syllables that fall flat. “No,” he admits.

Chirrut smacks his shoulder with an open palm. Blind, and he still has perfect aim.

“Young idiot!” he says.

Baze lets out a roar of laughter. “You were once a young idiot yourself.”

Chirrut wrinkles his nose and frowns. “That is irrelevant,” he says. “The point is Cassian needs to go stand on his feet and do something. He’s been balancing on blades for too long. Go be honest. Go tell her.” He punctuates the statements with pokes to Cassian’s bicep.

“The thing is,” Cassian says, rubbing his bicep and not meeting their eyes, “We had a bit of a fight.”

Baze frowns. Chirrut blinks. 

“We said…we should take a break from each other. That we don’t know how to be without the other.”

“Codependence is not a healthy or happy relationship,” Chirrut says.

“But without Jyn…things just don’t feel right.” Every time he tries to skate without Jyn, he keeps reaching for her hand to grasp only empty space. When he fell down after a jump, he listened for her laughter and found only silence. When he sits on the bench to take a water break, there is too much space by his side. 

Chirrut looks thoughtful, clasping his hands in front of him. “Perhaps it’s time you learn to be right with yourself, Cassian.”

Baze nods. “If you expect another person to complete you, then you will never learn to be complete with yourself.” 

Cassian twists to look at Baze. Chirrut normally pulls out the deep statements, not Baze. 

Baze, seeing his confusion, shrugs. “He said it first.” He tips his head to Chirrut, who is grinning. 

Cassian smiles. He’d missed them.

~

He spends the next few weeks taking time to catch up on life he’s missed. He spends extensive time with his mother, his Abuela, his sister. He plays lots of video games with Kay, listening to his housemate mentally calculate probabilities they’ll pass the next level. He chips away at his reading list. He skates, sometimes, and sometimes he sees Jyn’s car at the rink, and keeps driving. It’s not that he’s _avoiding_ her exactly, he just can’t get Baze and Chirrut’s words out of his head. 

_It’s time you learn to be right with yourself._

_If you expect another person to complete you, then you will never learn to be complete with yourself._

But that’s the thing, right? He’s only one half of Andor and Erso. She’s his partner. They’re a team. 

And he hasn’t heard from her in three weeks. Not since their fight.

They’ve had fights before, sure. There was one, particularly bad right before nationals before the Olympics. 

“Why weren’t you at the gym yesterday?” She’d hurled the words at him, a challenge, an accusation. 

“I was busy.”

“Busy? With what?”

“I just needed some time.” The truth was he’d overslept and by the time he woke up, judged it too late to go.

“We’re so close, Cassian, and you’re choosing now to take time?”

“It was one workout, Jyn, not like it’s the end of the world.”

She’d looked away, her mouth twisting sharply. “I feel like…you’re not as dedicated as I am.”

Anger had flared in his sternum. Of course he was just as dedicated. “Yes, and you’re always pushing for more! It’s impossible to be as dedicated as you!”

“So you think we should do less? What are you going to say next, drop out of nationals?”

“No, of course not!”

“Well that’s what it sounds like you’re saying!”

“Don’t put words in my mouth!”

“Don’t lie to me!”

Cassian turned away, putting his hands behind his head. He speaks with his back to her, gentler, quieter. “I overslept, Jyn. I wasn’t busy. I’m sorry I lied.”

With voice dripping disgust, she says, “You _overslept?_ ”

“I needed it. You do too.” He turns back around to find her jaw clenched. “You’re running yourself into the ground, Jyn! Look at you! You’re a mess! Take a day off. You need it. No matter how much we work, you won’t get any better than you are. Especially if you don’t rest.” 

She stares at him a moment longer, then rushes away. He knows she’s going to cry in the bathroom for a moment, a sign he’d hit home. He sighs, deciding to skate a few laps to wait for her to come back. 

She hadn’t come back. He called her that night and apologized, and she’d apologized too, and then they sat there, on the phone, listening to the other breathe. 

But that was it, wasn’t it. They always apologized. They were always fine. 

Maybe he should go to her. Apologize. Talk it over. 

“Cassian, you have not turned a page for an hour. May I suggest some physical activity?”

Cassian starts back to reality. “I’m fine.”

Kay peers at him. “Your face is pale. When was the last time you consumed sustenance?” 

Cassian chuckles at Kay’s robotized way of talking. He’s known Kay since childhood, he’s used to it; but sometimes his particular turns of phrase are too close to _weird_ to be ignored. 

“I’ve eaten, thank you.”

Kay cocks his head. “There’s a 67% chance you were thinking about Jyn Erso.”

Cassian chokes on his own breath. “What?”

“You haven’t spoken to her in close to twenty-two days, yes?”

“How do you keep track of these things? _Why_ do you keep track of these things?”

“It is my presumption that you miss her, Cassian. You should contact her, perhaps by sending an electronic message?”

“Are you telling me to text her?”

Kay blinks. “Yes.”

Cassian sighs. He pats his friend on the shoulder as he heads to his room. Here he was, trying to get over Jyn, and people kept bringing her up. Or asking about her. Maybe he should go see her.  
So he drives to her family’s house on Saturday. She doesn’t live at home anymore, but she does spend the greater parts of her weekends there. Or at the rink.

Lyra opens the door, and her face splits into a delighted smile. “Cassian!” She envelops him in a hug. “I have missed you!”

Cassian smiles into her shoulder. 

Bodhi comes barreling around the corner. He’s a senior in high school, but he’s still a kid in so many ways. He tackles Cassian into a hug. 

“I’ve missed you!” 

“You should have come sooner,” Lyra says. “We’ve missed you. You know you can stop by anytime.”

“Yes ma’am, I know.” He knows there will always be a place for him at the Erso table, just as there will always be a place for Jyn at the Andor table. Lyra used to pick them up from afternoon practice in middle school, and he’d eat dinner at their house. It made things easier on his mother. 

And so it is there that Jyn finds him. She stops dead in the living room, seeing him lean on the bar in the kitchen. He can see it in her eyes, the calculation of his possible motives for being her home. She stands there, in leggings and a t-shirt, holding her skate bag over her arm, and stares at him.

He clears his throat. “Hi.”

She shakes herself and pastes her face into a smile. “Hi.” 

Lyra glances from one to the other. Galen, at the stove, missed all of it. Bodhi narrows his eyes at his adopted sister. 

Dinner is tight, awkward. Galen and Lyra keep the conversation going, forcing answers out of Jyn and Cassian. 

“Cassian, you must be looking forward to going back to school in the fall,” Lyra says.

“Oh yeah, it’ll be great. I’ve already registered. It’ll be weird—haivng been out for two years—everyone I know is gone, but I’m looking forward to it.”

“I’m assuming you’re enjoying your break,” Galen rumbles.

“I am.”

“How are you staying busy? Jyn goes to the rink almost every day.”

Cassian sneaks a look at Jyn, but her gaze is fixed resolutely on her plate. 

“I’ve been doing some catching up with friends. Finally getting a chance to start my reading list.” He laughs weakly.

“Chirrut and Baze said you’d been by,” Jyn says through a mouth full of green beans.

“Oh? What did they say?” 

She shrugs. “Not much. Just that you’d come by.” She meets his eyes over their plates. There’s something she’s not telling him.

Bodhi chooses that moment to reach for the gravy, fumble with the ladle, and splash gravy all down Cassian’s shirt. 

Cassian jumps up and lets out a small curse. 

Bodhi flinches. “Sorry, Cassian.” 

Cassian glances at Bodhi. He’s not angry, but he can see it in Bodhi’s eyes. _Use this excuse, dumbass. I helped you here._ “Excuse me for a moment,” Cassian says, and makes his way to the bathroom.

“I’ll get the stain remover. I think I have one of your old sweatshirts around here somewhere,” Jyn says, and gets up from the table. 

In the bathroom he rinses his shirt under the tap, stretching the hem to put it under the flow.

Jyn appears in the doorway, holding an old grey sweatshirt. It’s so old the collar is stretched out and the cuffs are falling off. She hands him the sweatshirt and sets the stain remover on the counter.

“I haven’t seen this in years,” he says, running his hands over the soft fabric. 

“I…may have borrowed it,” she says, not meeting his eyes.

“Ah.” 

“We need to talk.” 

Cassian wraps his fingers a little tighter in the fabric of the sweatshirt. “What should I say?”

“You said we should take a break. Think about things. But we have to make decisions for our career.”

She’s speaking in a removed, clinical tone. He traces the shapes of her face with his eyes, landing finally on her lips. 

“Cassian. There are decisions that need to be made.”

Cassian is not often lost for words, but standing here now, in the Erso’s bathroom, face to face with his best friend of fourteen years, the girl he’s loved for nearly as long, and he doesn’t know what to say. 

“I don’t want to make them without you,” he says finally. “You’re part of this team. And if you didn’t want to take a break, you should have said.” 

“This isn’t about the break, Cassian,” she sighs.

“Then what is it about?”

“Our future. Where we go. We have to talk. To _communicate._ But I can’t do that if you keep avoiding me.”

The accuracy startles him. “How did you know I’m avoiding you?”

She laughs. “You’re my best friend, Cassian. How could I not know?”

He turns away from her, to face the sink. He strips out of his stained shirt in one smooth motion. 

To his side, Jyn stifles a cough. He glances at her after pulling on the sweatshirt. She is looking away, at the counter. He sprays the stain remover on his shirt. 

She jerks. “Mom will be wondering what we’re doing.” 

He grabs her wrist before she can leave. “Jyn, wait.” At the feel of the bones of her wrist beneath his palm he is caught thinking of all the ways his body is familiar with hers. 

Her hands, small and finely boned and delicate, with strength grasp and hold and support. Her arms, strung with wirey muscles. Her thighs that he had grasped to lift, to spin. The lines of her cheek and jaw that he had stroked in many a romantic routine. The curve and column of her neck, from every angle to be seen. He has held her body against his in every way except the one he actually wants.

He looks into her wide, brown eyes. He has never wanted to kiss her more than he does in this moment. 

His gaze flicks from her lips to her eyes and back again. His head tilts and he leans toward her just a bit, and he swears she’s tilting to match him, leaning forward and pressing up on her toes. Her tongue barely flicks over her lower lip.

And then he doesn’t kiss her. 

That’s not the answer. Not here. Not now. 

“Lunch tomorrow?” he nearly croaks, his voice thick with desire and unsaid things. 

“Lunch tomorrow,” she whispers, and her voice too is hoarse and layered with things left unsaid.

Cassian lets go of her wrist, nods, clears his throat. “Shall we finish dinner today?”

She shakes herself. “Yes. Dinner today.”

~

Cassian is early to lunch. She’d texted him earlier that morning, _Eisley’s. 11._ So he sits at the little table, twirling the cold metal table number holder between his fingers. 

Jyn walks in, wearing a light dress, heraling the coming of summer, and it’s not fair really, that she gets to look _that good._ It’s a dress, for fuck’s sake, he’s seen her in dresses before. It’s spaghetti strap, pulled at the waist and falling to her knees. Certainly nothing questionable or immodest. It shouldn’t make him think the thoughts he’s currently thinking, like what the dress would feel like under his fingers, or how easy it would be to slip it off. It’s really not fair, how she can dismantle him without saying a word. 

“Hey,” she says, sitting down. 

“Hey.”

She takes her time getting settled, adjusting her hair behind her ear, shifting in her seat, sliding her order number in beside his. 

“So what do we need to talk about,” he says, rather than asks.

“Our career. Do you want to keep competing? Or do you want to just move on and have a normal life?”

“Jyn,” he says, and stops himself. He focuses on the salt shaker, tilting it back and forth to let the white sand slide around. “I’m sorry,” he blurts out.

She blinks, leaning back and crossing her arms over her chest. 

“I’m sorry I pushed you away and avoided you. I’m sorry I hurt your feelings. I’m sorry, Jyn.”

She looks to the side. 

He holds his breath, counting his hearbeats.

“I just don’t feel like you’re taking this as seriously as I am,” she says finally. “This is our future, Cassian, and we can’t decide anything if you won’t talk to me!”

“I know. I’m sorry.”

“I just…I want us to be ok,” she says, and she sounds like she’s going to cry. 

“Jyn!” He reaches for her hand, but she pulls them into her lap. “Please, Jyn, I don’t understand what I did wrong.”

She sniffles. “I’m scared, Cassian.”

He leans forward, inviting her to talk.

“I’m afraid of what’s coming next. What am I supposed to do with myself if I don’t have—if I don’t have my career? What happens then? Do I just become some washed-up figure skater who fades into oblivion? I don’t know what to do with myself without skating! I’m still at the rink five hours a day because I _don’t know what else to do._ That’s not a life I want to live. And then there’s you.” A hint of bitterness seeps into her voice. “You’re going back to school, living your life, all happy and stuff, but yet you won’t tell me what comes next!” She sniffs again. 

“That’s because it’s not my decision to make. It’s ours. Together. Being afraid of what comes next is natural. I’m scared, too.”

“Yet you’ve just gone right on living a normal life.”

He laughs nervously. “Well, not really, no. Kay could tell you I do a lot of staring into space. I don’t know what Baze and Chirrut told you, but I went to them for some good old-fashioned dad advice.”

“They’re good for that,” she agrees. 

“What did they tell you?”

“That we needed to talk. That I shouldn’t be afraid.”

“Ah.”

She takes a deep breath. “So let’s answer this. Do you want to go back to competing?”

Cassian pauses for a moment. He thinks about the exhausting rigor of training. About going back to school. About getting a degree. About what it would be like to teach history. About what it would be like to coach skating. About how this decision might take Jyn from him. They might be going on separate paths. 

Right now, Cassian needs to choose his own future.

“No,” he says softly. “I don’t think I do.”

She crumples into herself a bit. “Oh.”

“But if you want to go another season, I would. For you.” He feels tired even as he says it. 

“I wouldn’t make you do that,” she says. 

“If you want to keep competing, you could be the next great single skater!” But his happiness is faked. If she does that, he would truly lose her. 

Mercifully, she shakes her head. “Skating isn’t right without a hand— _your_ hand—to hold.”

Cassian thinks about what Chirrut and Baze said. “Maybe you need to learn how to stand alone?”

Her eyes snap up and he knows he’s said the wrong thing.

“What about ‘not the last of Andor and Erso’?” 

“I didn’t say I’d stop skating! My life isn’t right without skating!”

“But is it really? I haven’t seen you at the rink in a long time.”

All at once, the tension is back, and Cassian wants to rip out his hair. He wants to snarl like a dog, release the irritation. Instead he says, “I don’t want to fight with you. You’re my best friend, Jyn. I don’t want to keep going on without seeing you.”

She sighs. “Me either.”

“Not every decision has to be made today,” he adds.

“No.” 

“We will still do shows. Maybe go on tour again. I’m sure Draven and Mothma will come up with some promotion we can do for team USA.” 

When she laughs, she tips her head back so he can see the unbroken line of her neck. Completely unbidden, the thought of marking her neck flashes through his mind. He feels like he’s playing whack-a-mole with his brain.

Sobering, she meets his eyes and asks, “What should I do?”

She’s asking him to tell her what to do. She’s asking him to make her decisions. He thinks about what Chirrut and Baze said again. “I can’t make that choice for you, Jyn.”

“Right. I have to do that on my own.”

He is proud. They are learning. 

He still wants to kiss her.

“I’m sorry I’ve been so irritated with you. It wasn’t fair to you.”

“All if forgiven,” he says. “We’re going to be okay.”

They finish lunch and it’s normal. It’s great. She tells him how the rink is offering to let her teach a summer skating class to children ages five to seven and he tells her she should do it. The picture of Jyn surrounded by tiny girls in tinier skates makes him smile. 

Just before she gets up to go, she says, “Since we’ve discussed all the serious things, is there anything else we need to talk about?”

It stops him short. He studies her face, the tilt of her smile, the quirk of her brow. She’s teasing, but he could just. Say it now. _I’m in love with you._

“No,” he says.

Her face falls the slightest bit. “Bye, Cassian.”

“Bye, Jyn.” He’s left wondering what he missed. 

He thinks about the future of Team Andor and Erso. Can he really go on like this? Wanting to kiss her senseless, but holding himself back for the sake of their career? But yet it seems their competitive career is over, at least for a time. It could ruin their friendship. But they’re adults, right? They can handle this. 

He wants to bang his head on the table. 

He loves her. It’s as easy as that. 

_Stand on his own two feet and tell her._

Dammit Chirrut. He chose his own future, with or without Jyn. Now it’s time to make sure it’s with Jyn.

~

Cassian gets to the rink mid-morning. Jyn’s car is there. Perfect. 

He can tell she’s practicing their Les Mis routine, from the way she is skating “like a delicate flower” in Draven’s words.

He gets on the ice with her, startling her by grabbing her hand as though they were in the routine. She giggles, and they finish that way, ending by spinning together with their faces pressed close, like they were going to kiss.

“Jyn, I—there’s something I need to tell you.”

“You’ve changed your mind about competing?”

“No, no, I—I think. I think there’s…” He forces himself to breath in deeply and blow all the air back out. “I think I’m in love with you.”

She slides back from him a tiny bit, eyes wide and lips parted just slightly. “You think—you think you’re…”

“I’m sorry, I’ve ruined everything, I shouldn’t have said anything—”

She rests a finger on his lips and slides back to him. “You mean all this time we could have been dating?”

“I—”

“We’re so dumb,” she says, and wraps her arms around his neck. 

They kiss. He slides his hands up to brace her face, tangling his fingers in her hair. She wraps her around his shoulders and back. The kiss turns hungry, and he breaks away to make sure this is still okay.

Her eyes are still closed. “Don’t stop,” she croaks. 

So he scoops her up in his arms, like he has so many times before, but this time it’s different. She giggles all the way off the rink and keeps stealing kisses as they take off their skates and pack up. With him on the bench, she straddles his hips and he grabs at her hips and she kisses down his jaw, meeting his mouth and sliding her tongue over his. He moans embarrassingly loudly and she snickers into his mouth. 

“Perhaps we should take this somewhere else,” she suggests, and he can only nod. 

God bless Baze and Chirrut.

~

Two days before Christmas, the Rockefeller Rink has a big Christmas show. Cassian, fresh out of finals, paces in the locker room, plastic blade covers clunking awkwardly. 

Jyn hurries out of her side of the locker room, hair sprayed stiff and covered in miniscule sparkly stars. He’ll be finding those stars in his bed until New Years. Her make up is ridiculously heavy, shades of purple and grey. Her costume, shockingly red, falls past her knees in a sharp asymmetrical line. She is gorgeous. He wants to scoop her up and go home, right then, right there.

“Ready?” she asks.

“Ready.” 

The last couple’s song is just wrapping up, and as the audience applauds Jyn and Cassian take center ice. 

Cassian thinks back to nearly a year ago; how they were getting ready for the Olympics; how they had practiced even on Christmas day. After this, they can go home to their families and to each other. Jyn will probably skate on Christmas day, because the rink will be empty and she has a key. He might come along. Her class of babies had their Christmas show last week, and Jyn was so proud she almost burst.

They take their starting positions. 

“Are you with me?” she whispers.

“All the way,” he answers.

The music starts, and they burst into smooth motion, in sync with each other and the music. Cassian feels like he might burst. He’s doing what he loves with the girl he loves. Nothing could be better. 

Team Andor and Erso for life.

**Author's Note:**

> There was a whole scene with Luke and Leia as an ice dancing team a la the Shib sibs, but it didn't make it in. I swear I could write like 5k more of this au, but I don't think you guys want to read that.
> 
>  
> 
> [tumblr](http://www.stillusesapencil.tumblr.com)


End file.
